


I've Got Time

by Mangocat98



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, BAMF Pepper Potts, Grief/Mourning, Happy Hogan is a Good Bro, POV Third Person, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker Feels, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Protective Pepper Potts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-10-01 17:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20344069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mangocat98/pseuds/Mangocat98
Summary: A continuation of the mid-credit scene we saw in Spider-Man Far From Home......Everybody knows who he is now, and no one he loves is safe anymore. Suddenly his suit is too tight, too hot and constricting. The world feels like it’s tilting. He rips the mask off then, because it really can’t get any worse can it?*Contains Endgame AND Spider-man FFH spoilers!





	I've Got Time

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [uneasy lies the head](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19704958) by [swingingparty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swingingparty/pseuds/swingingparty). 

J. Jonah Jameson’s image plasters the screens looming over the streets of New York City. His voice echoes through the square. From his perch on a street lamp Peter looks up.  
“And here’s the real news! The scoop on Spider-Man, the neighborhood menace. What we’ve all wanted to know. Brace yourselves folks!” The screen flickers to picture Mysterio. Blood streams down his forehead and he gasps for breath. His gaze is wide and piercing. It’s a convincing act. It could have fooled him – and it did before – but Peter knew better now. The same couldn’t be said for the majority of New York.  
Mysterio says “Spider man’s real name is—”  
the screen cuts to static for a moment. Times square goes dead silent. Peter’s stomach drops through the floor. His hands tighten around the pole and his arms tremble. “Spider man’s name is Peter Parker!” Peter's face is plastered on every screen. The photo Beck chose Peter recognizes as an old school photo taken a year ago before the spider bite. Those days had been simple. He remembers getting up early that morning. He’d put on one of his best shirts and Aunt May helped him tame his hair. Things have grown only more complicated since. This mess began with the spider bite, how he used his powers to help get money for his aunt and uncle. That lead Uncle Ben's death and meeting Mr. Stark only months later. He'd marveled in disbelief at how he’d gone to Germany to fight the Avengers and, at the time, that had seemed like such a golden opportunity. Maybe he could gain experience and gather the makings of a real hero. Flash forward and Thanos caused the apocalypse twice and he lost another father figure before he had the chance to graduate high school. Beck’s manipulation is the icing on the cake. Because of Beck, Peter's anonymity is destroyed. The people he loves are not safe and Peter does not know how to cope. Suddenly the suit is too tight, too hot and constricting and the world feels like it’s tilting. He rips the mask off because it doesn’t make a difference now. “You have to go!” MJ speaks first. Their eyes meet for a second. Peter scans the street looking for an escape route. A blonde woman steps in front of her child. A few men begin to approach with their hands poised for a fight.  
A heavy middle-aged woman shouts “Someone grab him!” One by one, more people filter into the street.  
“Murderer!” _An Iron fist bursts through patchy grass in front of a weathered tombstone._  
“You killed our last hero!” _Mr. Stark. I need help Mr. Stark I don’t want to go I don’t I can’t breathe help please I can’t do this!_  
“But he’s just a kid! I’m sure there must be some explanation for this?” _Midst the shouts of the crowd, a familiar voice screams “People thought I was crazy for trusting some 14-year-old kid!” Green smoke slithering between shards of mirrors falling around him. His face multiplied around the square. Why the fuck wasn’t he good enough? He just wanted to save them, to save them all! Mom, and Dad, and Ben, and now Mr. Stark. He can’t—he can’t do this!_  
“The video is proof enough for me!” Sirens are wailing down the street. People are swarming the square now and the noise has risen to a roar. MJ can only spare one last glance before she’s swept into the rush of people—_GO!_ Haphazardly, Peter shoves his mask back over his face. He webs his way up the side of the nearest building, _hauls_ over the edge of the roof and _swings because his life depends on it now_.

  
Peter arcs high over the streets of New York City. As he weaves between skyscrapers he can make out the building cacophony of police sirens. It’s barely a minute that goes by before Karen says “Incoming call from Happy Hogan.”  
“Karen, end call.”  
“Peter I believe it is in your best interest to receive help at this time. Based on your elevated heart rate and breathing, I detect that you are under severe stress.”  
“End. The call.” Despite his protests there is a ping as the call is picked up. He can hear the revving of a car engine and screech of tires. Happy lays on the horn.  
“Damn traffic jam. Peter! Peter, kid? Can you hear me?”  
Peter can make out sirens on the other end of the phone, the sound building up and then fading... “He-hey Happy? Now is not a good time.” Peter says mid-swing, passing by a building a bit too close. As he arcs towards the street people look up at him with hate in their eyes.  
“Listen. Kid, we saw the video—”  
“I swear! I swear it wasn’t me. When I said execute them all—Happy I was calling off the drone attack—” Peter pauses on the rooftop of a closed consignment store. He begins to pace. His hands run up and down his arms.  
“Kid, we understand—”  
“I would never kill anyone I swear!” Peter chokes off with a sob. His face is hot and his throat hurts and his body hurts and he’s tired—been tired for days—and all he wants is a normal life and a break. “The bullet that got Mysterio wasn’t me! It was one of the drones, Happy you have to believe me. Please!” His hands tighten around his torso and he can’t breathe _can’t breathe…_  
His throat feels like its closing and he wheezes. “Peter! Peter hey, I need you to breathe I don’t want you passing out on me ok? In for six and out for eight. Everything will be ok. Ready?” Peter nods and swallows hard. Black spots are starting to pop near the corners of his eyes and the sun is too bright. “In one, two three…” Peter breathes with him the best that he can. Some amount of time passes and he manages to calm down enough to function. He needs to. Peter’s breaths are hitched and choppy but his vision isn’t swimming anymore. He swipes his clammy palms on his thighs. Fingers clench to stop the shaking. He looks out at the horizon of what was once his home. “Do you know if May is ok?” Peter asks quietly. What if she believed what she saw as well? Not that Peter could blame her, the video made him look awful. Evil.  
“I got off the phone with Pepper right before I called you. We have plans set to move her out of New York ‘til this blows over.”  
“That’s good, yeah that’s probably for the best.” He couldn't bear to lose another person he loved. He didn’t know how much more he could take. Happy sighed on the other end of the phone. Peter could imagine Happy pinching his face, or running his hand down his head.  
“Speaking of arrangements, we need to get you to the lake house and out of the city. Fast.”  
“What about Morgan and Pepper’s safety.” Peter’s frustration flared then. “I’d be putting them in danger! Doesn’t that matter to you?!”  
“Of course it does!” Happy snapped. “And you matter to me just as much as they do." Peter felt his heart sink. "No—no arguing!" It's like Happy read his mind "Where are you now?”  
“I’m on top of that closed thrift store down Madison Street, but Happy you really shouldn’t—”  
“I’ll be there to pick you up as soon as I can. Stay nearby and make sure nobody sees you.” And Happy hung up. Peter waits and paces the roof. He's sure to keep away from the edges to avoid detection. The wind, soft and sweet with the heat of summer, is comforting the same way a hug is. Clenching and unclenching his fists, Peter fights back the second wave of panic. He feels as though his insides had been scooped out by a spork and thrown into iced water. He feels so small in the wake of an Avenger sized problem.  
“Hey Karen?” Peter’s voice shakes.  
“Yes Peter?”  
“What time is it?”  
“It’s currently 1:46 in the afternoon. The date is June 30th, 2023. The weather is partly sunny with no chance of rain. It is currently 86⁰F outside.” He can almost hear the smile in her voice then. She seemed happy to be helpful in the wake of this madness.  
“Thanks, Karen.”  
“You’re welcome Peter. Is there any other way I can assist you?” Peter begins to pace. He takes out a folded piece of card paper, the expensive kind, and unfolds it.  
It says “To the next Tony Stark, I trust you. P.S.: Say ‘Edith’ “At the bottom, it was signed by Tony Stark. The ink was smudged from all the times Peter ran his thumb over it.  
“You don’t think that I’m evil, do you Karen?”  
“No Peter of course not. You’re a hero.” She says calmly.  
“Thanks, Karen,” Peter says. He might not believe the hero part, considering he’s put countless people in danger time and time again. The reassurance is still nice. “Can you replay the message again?”  
“Yes Peter.” She said calmly. Tony’s voice begins to play.  
“Is this thing on? Yeah—ok good. Hey Peter, it’s me Tony. I guess if you’re hearing this, two things are true; That time heist Cap planned worked and I—” he clears his throat. Fabric shifts. “I didn’t make it. I am so, so sorry I didn’t get more time to mentor you. I’d always hoped I would get to see you grow. Become great, well you are great. You’re good and kind and innocent and so, so smart, so much better than I was at your age—Anyways! I want to tell you that I believe in you. Whatever you decide to do with yourself, wherever you go in life, you’ll do amazing. With or without my help.” There is a pregnant pause there, followed by a heavy sigh. “All I ask is that you do your best kid, and I know you will. And—and keep an eye on Morgan for me, would you? I love you 3000, kid.” After another rustle of fabric and a click the message ends.  
“Peter, are you alright?” Karen says. “You seem to be distressed. Shall I call Mrs. Stark or Happy Hogan?” Peter hugged himself. Pain wracked his chest in the cold, empty way it always did when he remembered that Mr. Stark was gone gone _gone and it was all his fault, he should have done something with that gauntlet instead—_  
“I’m fine,” he says in that level way he’d learned to when May tried to level him with her concerned gaze. Or when MJ asked if he was ok, or Ned asked too many questions. The voice that never fooled MJ. MJ, who offered silent companionship when talking became too much or offered Peter her headphones when he needed to get his mind off things. These people might be in danger right now because Mysterio could be out there. Why didn’t he think to check if Beck had a pulse before he left? And if not him then angry people and potential criminals that could hurt his family in spite. Or the government!? What if the people in charge of the Sokovia accords and National Security went after his friends? Aunt May, Ned, and MJ could be arrested and charged with harboring a criminal! And here he was, powerless to protect those he loved. _Again._ All because he trusted the wrong person and just _needed_ an adult to handle things, just _needed a break_. A _need_ so _sharp_ it made his chest hurt again. He ached for a hug he would never get because it's Peter's time to grow up and handle things. Mr. Stark did it. Happy is doing it. Mrs. Potts is doing it, with a child and no husband so _man the fuck up Parker_.  
“You got a message from Mr. Hogan, Peter. He is nearby, just a minute out. He wants you to be ready to go.”  
“Yeah, thanks Karen,” Peter says. He crawls over to the edge of the roof to peer over the side, just as a black sedan pulls over next to the curb. As it comes to an abrupt stop a hand makes a waving motion outside the driver’s seat window. That’s the signal, then. Carefully, quietly Peter scales the side of the building he’s been on, the side concealed in an alleyway. Sneaking behind trashcans and around the corner he makes it into the back of the car unseen. And that’s a feat really, considering that he’s wearing a bright red suit in the middle of New York City and he’s currently the most wanted kid in America. As he shuts the passenger side door and collapses into the seat, Happy throws a duffel bag into his lap. “You might want to try putting on some normal clothes kid. Put those on over the suit. We're getting the hell out of here.” Happy pulls out of the side street then and into the claustrophobia that is New York traffic.  
“Hey Happy, not that I don’t appreciate you being here or anything. How did you get to me so fast? Shouldn’t it have taken you at least an hour or two to get to me from the lake house? ‘Cause that’s like, pretty far away from here isn’t it?” The last time Peter had been to the lakehouse was for Mr. Starks's funeral. Peter remembers the long drive he had taken months ago. How silent the car ride was. How empty the streets were. Then the ride had felt like forever because Peter had been anticipating and fearing a goodbye. This ride would be longer. Not just because of the traffic. Peter may also be guilty of screening Pepper's calls to dodge her attempts at mothering him recently. And really, he is handling things. He is not looking forward to the grilling she is bound to give him, though.  
“I was heading this way to settle Avenger's business actually.” Happy said. Accepting the vague answer, for now, Peter began to fumble into some regular clothes. It stopped him from trying to force a conversation. He rested his cheek on the window and watched the city pass him by. Over the next few hours, the skyscrapers shrunk to towns and homes. Peter closes his eyes to the hum of the car engine, trees, sunlight. "Yeah, I've got him." Happy mumbles into a phone. The world goes black.

  
The sun had moved westward as they pull up the long, wooded driveway. Sunlight poured down through the green leaf canopy, spotting the gravel drive and the front porch of the lake house. Pepper is standing in the screen door, dressed neatly with an apron cinched at the waist. There is a wrinkle in her brow and her lips are pressed together. Happy gets out of the front seat, briefly leaving Peter alone. The door next to Peter opens and then Happy and Pepper are standing there together looking at him with sad eyes. The pity is more than he can take and more than he wants, more than he deserves. He needs to grow up, to step up to the plate and be a man and take care of his own messes and be more and be ready to just _deal_ with this. Peter starts to fumble numbly with the seat belt when Pepper takes over.  
“Peter. Peter, honey calm down. Everything is going to be okay. We are going to get through this mess.” Gently, Pepper takes both of his hands in one of her own and, holding Peter close to her side with the other, guides him into the house.  
“Happy can you get the door?”  
“Sure, gimme a sec.” Happy says.  
Peter is sitting on the couch with a blanket around his shoulders and a mug of hot cocoa. Pepper is next to him, running soothing hands through his hair. This makes Peter’s chest _ache_ with an empty sort of want, so he politely asks her to stop.  
“I’m ok, really. I’ve got this.” He says. He ignores the day-old soreness in his muscles and the sharp throb in his ribs from his ‘vacation’ to Europe as he sinks farther into the couch. For some reason his injuries aren't healing like they normally do. They're very slow at it. Peter thinks its stress. Really he would rather focus on anything other than the concerned adults around him. How are they so worried when he caused all of this mess? Pepper bites her lip and sighs.  
“Okay. If you need anything at all you let me know. Peter?” She raises an eyebrow and purses her lips. Peter tries to smile.  
“I can do that, yeah.” He says very calmly. She nods and walks to the nearby kitchen, mumbling something about feta cheese and lasagna.  
“Happy come help me!” She calls. Two sets of feet come down the stairs, one much smaller than the other.  
“Petey! Petey’s here?” Morgan says as she trails behind Happy. As her brown eyes settle on him her face lights up. She looks then like the sun coming from behind the clouds. Like Peter hung the stars. She runs then into his lap to give him a hug, nearly knocking Peter’s mug on the floor.  
“OOF—hey there Morgan.”  
“Petey I missed you!” She burrows her head then into his neck. “Don’t you know? Mom and Dad are making lasagna for dinner!”  
“Oh! That’s uh...” Peter stops. Did he hear her right? He was sure that Pepper mentioned Morgan had processed that Mr. Stark is gone, gone, and not coming back. She is only a child... “That’s great! I love lasagna." he forces out. “Should we go see if we can help, too?” Morgan asks.  
"I don't see why not?" Peter says. Maybe doing something productive will make him feel better? It's a toss-up. “Yes!” She says, spreading all ten fingers wide in front of her. Peter moves to set the mug of cocoa down on the coffee table when he hears the sink in the bathroom upstairs. A heavy set of footsteps creak down the stairs.  
“Hey, Pep! I think I just about fixed the plumbing in the bathroom. Turns out the little fixture behind the faucet—”  
Peter freezes because he is looking at a ghost.

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note:  
Hello! Its been a while since I’ve written fan fiction. This was inspired by the work "uneasy lies the head" by tnyystark. You should definitely go check that out. I am planning on taking this in a completely different direction. After a brief search I realized there weren’t a whole lot of fics filling the gap left after Far From Home, so I though why not give it a go? I have a second idea for it that I will be writing soon involving a different avenger (coming soon!) Please let me know what you think!


End file.
